. The real Latin quarter . dwith lavender and roses and hollyhocks—and all this fair land running to the whitesand of the beach, with the blue sea will write to old Pere Jaqueline thatthey are all coming—it is just the place inwhich to pose a model en plein air,—andSuzanne, his model, being a Normande her-self, grows enthusiastic at the thought ofgoing down again to the sea. Long beforeshe became a Parisienne, and when herbeautiful hair was a tangled shock of curls,she used to go out in the big boats, withthe fisherwomen—barefooted, brown, andhappy. She tells them of those gooddays,
. The real Latin quarter . dwith lavender and roses and hollyhocks—and all this fair land running to the whitesand of the beach, with the blue sea will write to old Pere Jaqueline thatthey are all coming—it is just the place inwhich to pose a model en plein air,—andSuzanne, his model, being a Normande her-self, grows enthusiastic at the thought ofgoing down again to the sea. Long beforeshe became a Parisienne, and when herbeautiful hair was a tangled shock of curls,she used to go out in the big boats, withthe fisherwomen—barefooted, brown, andhappy. She tells them of those gooddays, and then they all go into the Tav-erne to dine, filled with the idea of thenew trip, and dreaming of dinners underthe trees, of Tripes a la mode de Caen,Normandy cider, and a lot of new sketchesbesides. Already the tables within are well long room, with its newer annex, is asbrilliant as a jewel box—the walls rich intiled panels suggesting the life of the Quar-ter, the woodwork in gold and light oak,40. the big panels of the rich gold ceiling ex-quisitely painted. At one of the tables two very chic youngwomen are dining with a young French-man, his hair and dress in close imitationof the Due dOrleans. These poses indress are not uncommon. A strikingly pretty woman, in a scarlet-spangled gown as red as her lips, is diningwith a well-built, soldierly-looking man inblack; they sit side by side as is the cus-tom here. The woman reminds one of a red lizard—a salamander—her svelte body seeminglyboneless in its gown of clinging hair is purple-black and freshly on-duled ; her skin as white as ivory. She hasthe habit of throwing back her small, well-posed head, while under their delicatelypenciled lids her gray eyes take in theroom at a glance. She is not of the Quarter, but the Tav-erne du Pantheon is a refuge for her attimes, when she grows tired of Paillardsand Maxims and her quarreling retinue. Let them howl on the other bank of the42 Seine, says
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectartists, bookyear1901
